Ice Cream Social
by SteelGlyph
Summary: While The Mother of Invention is docked on a planet to refuel, Agent Washington is determined to make sure his friend keeps his promise. Sort of a sequel to my other story, Special Mission, but it can be read as a stand alone.


_I'm back with another Freelancer story, yay! For anyone wondering, Agents Montana and Iowa are my OCs. Enjoy~_

"Wake up lazy ass! We're going to get ice cream today, remember?" Washington beamed while he sat at the foot of his comrade's bed. Maine, who had just woken up from a nearly sleepless night, wasn't in the mood for the small man's nagging this early. He growled angrily and rolled over to face his back toward Washington.

Washington frowned, "Come on man, this is more for you than it is for me." Maine let out an irritated growl. "Well sure I want ice cream too but it'll be good for you! Ice cream was all I ever ate when my throat was sore from having my tonsils removed as a kid and it felt wonderful," Wash insisted. Maine growled again. "Not the throat being sore part but the ice cream going down..you know what I mean!"

The large Freelancer didn't respond, simply laying in his bed attempting to will Washington away. Unfortunately for Maine, Wash didn't seem to get the memo.

"You promised." Maine's shoulders stiffened. He HAD agreed to go with Washington to get ice cream. Silently cursing himself for going along with this ludicrous quest, Maine rolled over and growled at Washington. The smaller Freelancer gave him a goofy grin. "Yes! Get dressed and meet me outside the ship!" Washington yelled back to Maine as he ran off.

The Mother of Invention had made a pit stop at a nearby human inhabited planet to refuel and restock, giving Washington the perfect excuse to bomb Maine up early for ice cream. Who knew the next time they would be able to stop?

Maine got dressed in his only civilian clothes, worn blue jeans and a white t-shirt from Wash, and preceded down the hallway. He passed by North and York playing a game of poker in which York was visibly loosing and caught a glimpse of a very tired looking Carolina attempting to eat her breakfast without making a huge mess. Maine simply rolled his eyes and continued on until he reached the open hatch of the ship where Washington was eagerly waiting for him.

"Ready to go?" Wash asked as he patted his large friend on the shoulder. Maine nodded and walked to the passenger side of the nearest Warthog while Washington jumped into the driver's seat. "There's a small shop right up the road I found earlier. Doesn't look like many people go there so you don't have to worry about crazy civilians this time," Washington joked as he started the Warthog and the two Freelancers started off toward their destination.

A bell on the door rang as Washington and Maine entered the small ice cream parlor. Noticing customers, the pudgy old man behind the counter looked up from his paper to see the odd pair standing in the doorway. The shorter of the two had a goofy grin on his face, his brown hair looking wind blown and the large bald man behind him look terribly uncomfortable in the tiny shop which caused the old man to chuckle to himself.

"What can I get for you boys? You come off that big ship too?" The shop owner asked, setting down his paper. Washington stepped forward first. "We sure did. Wait, how did you know?" He asked. The older man pointed to a table in the corner where someone sat with a news paper in front of their face. "Another rough lookin' man over there came in and said he was just in that ship. Figured you two knew him," the owner stated.

The man in the corner moved the paper from his face revealing his identity. Washington recognized him instantly, the natural red hair formed into a Mohawk giving him away.

"Hey Monty!" Washington greeted the grinning man. Agent Montana chuckled, "You convinced Maine to come get ice cream with ya? I'm impressed." Maine growled at the laughing Freelancers as he turned to look at the large selection of ice cream.

Washington smiled, "It wasn't easy, but I finally got the big guy to cave." Montana laughed once more then returned to his own cup of ice cream. "If you're havin' trouble choosing," he directed at Maine. "I'd suggest the pistachio ice cream." Maine hissed at Montana, earning a laugh from the Irish Freelancer.

"Easy big guy," Washington coaxed. "Now let's see...how about chocolate?" Maine shook his head. "Strawberry?" Another head shake from Maine. "Hmm...what about..." Washington thought out loud as his eyes scanned over the man flavors of the frozen dairy treat before him. A slap on the shoulder caught his attention. "Ow, jeez man. What was that for?" Washington asked as he saw Maine pointing to the ice cream.

"Oh. You want cheesecake?" Washington asked as he saw the flavor that was being pointed at. Maine nodded, his eyes fixed on the ice cream. "Alright then, we'll take two cups of cheesecake," Washington told the old man. "Good choice." The owner said as he began to scoop up their order.

Maine glanced around the small shop as he waited, noticing the door open behind him. A young boy happily lead an elderly lady into the ice cream parlor, both of them stopping at the sight of the men in the shop. The older woman tugged on the boy's hand and they both left as soon as they had arrived.

"What was that all about?" Washington asked with a confused look on his face. Montana folded his news paper and took a bite of his ice cream before turning to Washington. "Most people here don't fancy our work," he said rather darkly. "Can't say I blame em', what with us going around and shootin' up a storm everywhere we go. People are bound to get hurt and when they do they blame us."

Silence fell over the small shop as Washington paid for his and Maine's ice cream. The truth behind Montana's words rang in the Freelancers heads. For all the "good" the Director told them they did, there always seemed to be consequences. They had never stopped to think just how much their missions effected the lives of normal civilians. Just how many people had died as a result of their excursions?

Agent Montana stood up from his table and headed for the door. "I'll see you on the ship lads, Iowa's likely to have my head for being gone so long," Monty chuckled, grabbing Washington's hand in a firm shake. As he walked out of the shop, Wash noticed a small, torn piece of folded newspaper in his hand. Maine's eyebrow raised as Washington opened the note a saw a short message scrawled across in marker.

"That old hag spit in your ice cream."

Maine's lip curled to a snarl as he stared at his cup of ice cream. Suddenly he didn't quite feel like eating the sweet dairy treat. Apparently Washington wasn't feeling to hungry either since Maine noticed his ice cream was also untouched. Washington look up at his large friend with a similar look of disgust on his face.

"Wanna go out for pizza?"


End file.
